(size, 4 ft. 4 by 2 ft. 2), which, if not the identical one that St. Augustine erected on the site occupied by the idol of Ethelbert, is at any rate a very ancient memorial of it.

It is worthy of remark that these three churches are situated in almost a direct line from east to west, and were all outside the Roman walls, and apart from the Roman cemeteries. The orientation of all of them is nearly perfect.

In treating of the time between the departure of the Romans in 410 and the mission of St. Augustine in 597, we must remember that history is almost silent; only a meagre outline of facts is given us, and these often of a very contradictory character. We must endeavour, however, to give a brief sketch of this intervening period as far as it concerns the south-eastern portion of our island, and of necessity, therefore, includes the fortunes of Canterbury. To account for the comparatively easy conquest of Britain in the middle of the fifth century, we are bidden to remember that the Roman rule, which had at first been of a civilising character, and had fostered commerce and the various arts, had in its latter period degenerated into corruption. Town and country alike were crushed by heavy taxation, aggravated by the arbitrary and ruinous oppression of the tax-gatherers. The population, too, had gradually declined as the estates of landed proprietors grew larger. Moreover, the Roman government had disarmed and enervated the people, and, by crushing all local independence, had crushed all local vigour, so that men forgot how to fight for their country, and constant foreign invasions found them without hope or energy for resistance.

Bishop Stubbs (in his "Constitutional History") remarks on the great contrast between the effects of the Roman occupation in Gaul and Britain. Gaul had so assimilated the cultivation of its masters, that it became more Roman than Italy itself, possessing more flourishing cities and a more active and enlightened church, as well as a Latin language and literature; while Britain, though equally under Roman dominion, had never become Roman. When the legions were removed, any union that may have existed between the two populations absolutely ceased. The Britons forgot the Latin tongue; they had become unaccustomed to the arts of war, and had never learnt the arts of peace, while their clergy lost all sympathy with the growth of religious thought. They could not utilise the public works, or defend the cities of their masters, so that the country became easy to be conquered just in proportion as it was Romanised.

After a continuance of internal dissensions, described by Gildas in high-flown and rhetorical language, the native chiefs were once more troubled by piratical attacks, and by their Irish enemies. It was impossible to resist this combination by the forces of the province itself, and so, imitating that fatal policy of matching barbarian against barbarian, which led to the fall of the Roman Empire, the Britons summoned to their aid a band of English or Jutish warriors, to whom they promised food, clothing, pay, and grants of land. And this application for help was not unnatural, as there was probably in many of the towns a leaven of Teutonic settlers, especially along the "Saxon shore," who had maintained a steady intercourse with their kinsmen that remained behind, and some of whom may have been German war-veterans, pensioned off by successive Roman emperors.

The statement by Mr Green that the "History of England begins in 449 with the landing of Hengist and Horsa in the Isle of Thanet" is principally applicable to the Kingdom of Kent, for the Jutes had been preceded by Angles in the north, who seem to have been for some time in more or less undisputed possession of the country between the mouth of the Humber and the wall of Antoninus; and the eastern shores of the island were to a great extent colonised by kindred tribes.

The leaders in this expedition naturally sent for reinforcements after their first successes, and it is probable that their followers were at the beginning contented with a settlement in the Isle of Thanet, where they would be secure against any possible treachery from the Britons, and would be near the sea, whence their compatriots would bring them aid if necessary—yet they gradually advanced, and their subsequent exploits culminated in the victory of Aylesford, six years after their landing, and the alleged death of the warrior Horsa.

This victory, it is said, was followed in Kent by a dreadful and unsparing massacre. The Jutes, merciless by habit, were provoked by the sullen and treacherous attitude of their victims, and destroyed all the towns which they captured. Some of the wealthier landowners of Kent fled in panic over the sea, but many of the poorer folk took refuge in forests, or escaped to Wales and Cornwall. Famine and pestilence devoured some, others were ruthlessly slaughtered. There was no means of escape, even by seeking shelter within the walls of their churches, since the rage of the English burnt fiercest against the clergy. The priests were slain at the altar, the churches burnt, and the peasants rushed from the flames, only to be cut down by the sword.

The above is the generally accepted theory, but probably in many respects it is an exaggerated account, such as is common in the traditions of conquered nations, and should be accepted with very great hesitation.

A few years after the victory of Aylesford, Richborough, Lympne, and Dover fell permanently into the hands of the invaders.

The Jutes, with whom Kent is more immediately concerned, were the northernmost of the three tribes of the Germanic family. They lived in the marshy forests and along the shores of the extreme peninsula of Denmark, which retains the name of Jutland to the present day. We know little of their early history, but it is probable that the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons, although speaking the same language, worshipping the same gods, and using the same laws, had no national or political unity—and the separate expeditions, resulting in the final conquest of Britain, were unconnected with one another, though almost continuous in point of time. It is certain that the invaders to a large extent declined to amalgamate with the people whom they had conquered; nor would they consent to tolerate their existence side by side. A few may have lingered on in servitude round the homesteads of their conquerors, but a large portion of the survivors (as we have said) took refuge in Western Britain.

As to their religion, we know that England for nearly a century and a half was almost entirely a heathen country, represented on a map as a black patch between the Christians of Gaul and the Christian Celts of our island. While the Goths, Vandals, Burgundians, and Franks in other parts of the Roman empire soon became Christians, the English went on worshipping their false gods, such as Woden, Thor, and others, who gave their names to river, homestead, and boundary alike, and even to the days of the week.

And yet their mythology was not so degraded but that it presented in fragments the outlines of Christianity. This was recognised afterwards by Pope Gregory's wise counsel to Augustine not to interfere needlessly with the religious faith of his pagan converts, but allow them to worship the old objects under new names; not to destroy the old temples, but to consecrate them as Christian churches, the reason being that "for hard and rough minds it is impossible to cut away abruptly all old customs, because he who wishes to reach the highest place must ascend by steps and not by jumps." Kemble (in his "Saxons in England") gives an insight into the character of their religion, and accounts for the ultimately rapid spread of Christianity among them by this process of adaptation, and